The Late Coming
by wwlilybell
Summary: Aizawl Kousaku had realised it took him too many years to make it right. When they actually get together, once again he found that it took him too many years to do a lot of things he should have done a long time ago.
1. Chapter 1

Part 1 : 1560 words

Where Aizawa moved to Toronto, and their relationship would later start after he left Shohoku. Weird enough.

This will be in several parts. More notes at the end!

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"Kousaku."

When Aizawa turned around for her call, Shiraishi Megumi felt her cheeks burning with heat despite of the wind of this cold night. His hair was a bit messier than it normally is. His dark indigo shirt had its hem out of his slacks' waist, on top of everything there was a dark grey coat he had worn for forever. That's why it is Kousaku, not Aizawa-sensei.

He did not reply. It was so typical of him she was not a bit irritated. Instead, he slowed his pace down to match hers. His warm, precise hand of a surgeon slid under her coat's pocket to find her own hand. His fingertips gently rubbed her knuckles in an indefinitive rhythm. She wondered if he ever played a string instruments. Those sleek fingers of his must look amazing when playing a guitar.

She had a question, 'what are you thinking about?' came up at her lips. He was not looking at her face but impossibly answered her.

"I want to go back."

"To Japan?" Shiraishi looked up at his face.

"To you." He simply replied. Aizawa did not intend to be romantic in the slightest. He was just saying the truth. The one and square fact of his own feeling.

"You chose to be a residency here, I also think you belong here."

"I do."

They walked without words for one, two, three and four more blocks. They weren't the talkative kind of couple, but what needed to be said, needs to be said. Shiraishi gave her companion's hand a squeeze which resulted in him giving her a squeeze back. The squeeze was gentle.

She had long noticed that the man did everything that had to do with his hand cautiously, gently like everything could always break in a second. She gathered it must came from his natural born surgeon hands. But she liked it. So much that everytime he touches her, it feels so special.

"It's really cold here all year long."

He muttured under the icy breath.

"I like it." said her.

"Coldness?"

"Uh-huh."

"You're strange."

The female doctor tilted her head towards Aizawa. "Like, at the time it's really cold like this, when you finally got home or got something warm to eat or cuddle under a thick blanket, it makes you feel so thankful to everything. Don't you think, Kousaku?"

He couldn't help but lifted a corner of his mouth out of amusement at her explanation. The hand he was holding got warmer by now.

"I don't like it, though."

"Hmm." replied noncommittally the woman.

"When it's cold, I feel like there's no one around. May be everyone has left because of the coldness. I get lonely." He confessed quietly causing her to stared at him in mild surprise. She proceeded to point him out.

"But you are so cold yourself sometimes."

He nodded.

"You hardly speak nor smile. You always have harsh words. You don't show emotions."

He continued to nodded to everything she said.

"But that's why when you smile it feels like I have reached home, or found my good old blanket. It's more than warm I guess." She slowly freed her hand from his loose grip. Shiraishi raised her head to look at the neurosurgeon in the eyes.

"Thanks." His eyes diverted to escape her gaze. The action actually made her giggled. It proved to her that sometimes this person could be a shy boy too.

"Are you being shy right now?"

She teased by giving him a little bump at their shoulders.

"No."

"Are we reaching your place soon?"

He stopped as soon as the question was asked. The pair was standing right outside a brand new building his flat was in. "We're here."

"It's an honor to give your home a visit, talented Japanese neurosurgeon ." Her eyes sparkled as she said.

"You're so happy today."

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Megumi."

When Shirashi Megumi started at his voice, something warm grew in Aizawa's chest. He reckoned it was not any aorta working especially hard.

His beautiful company stopped whatever she was doing to give him full attention.

"Yes?"

Her hair hanged down, framing her nicely-shaped face. That's why it is Megumi. Not Shiraishi.

"You didn't need to do that." He swiped the pile of unfolded clothes from her hands to put them away. "These are mine."

He stopped midtrack, suddenly realized the words weren't really pleasant to hear - "I mean, you're here as a guest."

She laughed as he said lamely.

"I know, but you look so tired. That's why." 'Megumi' spoke merrily as she leaned in to brush his bangs out of his eyes. Her fingers stayed just above his eyelid, then they moved away. He silently winced to himself that they did.

Because, well, he would never tell her this, but her slightest touch made his iron heart jumps like there were some irregularities with his heart. He caught her hand midair.

"I'm not, and these are just sleepwears. I don't fold them anyway." He clarified, taking her hand in his.

"Aizawa-sensei, I don't remember you have this unorganized side to yourself." Her eyebrows furrowed.

"I can be a control freak at work, but at home not so much."

"That's nice to hear. It kinda makes you less intimidating." She teased, again. Gradually, Aizawa felt his stress leaping away and that particular warmth had taken its place firmlier and firmlier. With her around, the same place he had called home for a year seemed to be much more like a home more than it had ever been.

He was giving it a good thought. And giving her a good look.

It had been a year since he left Shohoku, Japan, and her behind to pursue his career in Toronto. Aizawa was sure everything would be fine because he had always lived by himself as long as he remembered.

Good thing that he never had a lot of attachment issues to anyone. So saying goodbye was a lot easier than what normal people has to experience.

Even when he was saying good-bye to her one year ago, it didn't feel too painful. Or so he thought.

Aizawa was not a fan of social connection, but amidst cold weather and strangers, he surprisingly found himself sending his old comrade a mail. The comrade was none other than Shiraishi Megumi, who, after a couple months he spent alone in the middle of snow and storms, had her presence grew in his thoughts uncontrollably.

He did not know why he chose to send those awkward short mails to her. It just felt okay. If it's this person, may be she would be able to take the mails for what they are.'

Aizawa had not realized then that those messages he wrote actually meant something much more than typical mails from an old colleague. A reply came. Aizawa wrote another one. A reply came again. And soon it became a 2 ways communication, so were they feelings.

Half a year ago he went back once to get various things straighten out, like talking properly to his father about his residency and attending the Fujikawa's wedding and so on.

The moment he saw Shiraishi Megumi in person again after so long, after so many mails back and forth. He knew this is another thing he needed to straighten out.

They got together. It was meant to be. He had never thought he was someone to say that kind of cheesy phrase but somehow it became so clear.

Unfortunately, residency still came before that phrase. He forced himself to board the plane back. She couldn't give him a promise she will come to see him. She was an emergency medical staff anyway.

But here she was, sitting so prettily on his sofa. Trying to fold his clothes, fixing his hair, staring at him. Aizawa never felt so warm.

He suppressed the urge to hug her the tightest he can. She had just landed in the country this afternoon. He didn't want to make her feel too tired.

"Are you sure you didn't want to get a hotel room or something? I mean my place can be messy, and it's cold, and,"

"I'm good, Kousaku. Really. What's wrong?"

She looked at him, surprised.

"I guess I'm just..." he shook his head to end the sentence. How could he get so nervous over Shiraishi's coming over?

Right, it would mark as their official first sleepover.

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Hello, I don't know if my first fic is not well written or something felt off with it but apparently not many people like it! XD Which saddened me a bit.

Anyway, reviews and favourites are very appreciated. I appreciate all of you who read and write to share your thoughts to the story people wrote in this site very much. Actually just you reading this is already a lot for me.

Let's wait for the movie together!


	2. Chapter 2

Note: I switched to write in this tense because it is much more comfortable. Sorry for the little bumps in continuation!

I guess this is on a very thin line to M, eh? Let me know what you think. Should I tone down or go full blown on the upcoming parts?

Thank you for your reviews, it means a world to me. And all of your wonderful ffs are truly inspirational.

* * *

Aizawa know too well he can't fully rest tonight.

He has just finished an especially long shift that afternoon but what little use does it do. How to sleep when Shiraishi Megumi is on the other side of his bed is not what Aizawa had thought about.

And to think that he used to be the one who had an answer to every problem in his life, this is somehow a minor crisis.

He will appreciate very much if his companion make some sound of breathing or can even be thankful for a snore. But Shiraishi must have make it her point to stay as quiet as a mouse, it frustates him. Aizawa doesn't dare to turn himself over because 'what if she is not asleep yet?'.

After what seems like an hour, his mind slowly slip away with some hazy cloud of thoughts floating around. He tosses and turns unconsciously, bringing himself closer to the woman on the other side of the bed.

A surgery. French words some patients talk in their sleep. Reports that come in illegible handwrittten English. A nosy colleague that is mildly racist. A surgery again, he has too many shifts too. He has to...

No, he doesn't have to do anything now. A little voice tells him.

It was not his mind that is speaking. That realisation flip his train of thoughts, also his eyes open.

In the darkness, he hears her eyes speak the way he haven't heard anyone's does before. He can't even see them but he knows.

When his sight has adjusted to the dark, he is staring into his favourite pair of eyes. The sweet, caring gaze overwhelms Aizawa.

Before he can turn the other way, her hand reaches out. It hovers just above his cheek like the owner is hesitating. His mind is not thinking straight too.

Is she fully awake? Is she still in her dream?

No.

It touches him so lightly, those little, slender fingers move slowly past his cheek to his nose, they slide over the straight arc to the tip, then fall gently to his lips.

He see her blinks, those round shiny eyes never left his. Her face is in somekind of unreadable trance he has not seen before.

As she is retreating her touch, Aizawa catches her wrist softly. The sudden contact seems to jolt her to be conscious of herself.

"Sorry." whispered her.

He answered nothing. But he wants tlo assure her there's nothing to be sorry for. So he moves closer, with a quick swift, the space between them is closed.

Aizawa holds her close in his arms. It is the first time he understand the feeling of truly belonging. It is nothing like when he hugs her. Those hugs sure always feel amazing. Now this is totally on a different level. When she angles her head his chest, all of the thoughts and feelings he has for her swell like a water balloon.

Cold and stern as people call him, Aizawa is still a man. The feeling of love in his embrace comes in package with the desire he has long expected. The warmth is getting too warm, the water balloon is getting too big. He wonders if she hear the loud beating sound his heart is making for while now.

She must have heard, because even he hears it.

It comes so naturally when she tucks at his shirt. Her eyes looking up as he notices that her cheeks are blushing red even in the dark. Then he bends his head down to kiss her.

Shiraishi Megumi tastes like mint. Maybe it is the toothpaste but he does like to think it is her. The freshness, the sweetness that reminds him a little of antiseptic. The kiss is light and sweet like a shy wind.

Then she returns it and it drives him a little crazy. The press of her small lips on his, the hands sliding up to the nape in the back of his neck, everything about it. He can feel her eyelashes brush against his skin.

The lack of sleep makes him impatient. But that's not the main reason why he's getting impatient right now.

Aizawa tastes her lower lip with his tongue. And she, in the guise of being slightly out of breath, let her lips part

a little, giving him the chance he's been asking.

As the kiss intensifies, his tongue tastes the sweetness inside and seek hers. Shiraishi Megumi is not thinking, she lets her emotion guide her actions

for the first time. Her tongue tries to mimic what his does quite shyly. Like a schoolgirl. Aizawa's heart now beats super fast at the her innocence.

In the almost visible hot air that is surrounding their kiss, Shiraishi backs out first. She feels him protesting her by the look on his face. The air between them reminds her of the blush that creeps up from every artery to her face. She takes in the much needed air, still breathless from all the sensations he gave her.

Shiraishi allows herself to look at him closer, her right cheek now almost rests on his pillow. Then he moves a little closer to touch the tip of her nose with his.

She looks into the eyes before her. They are saying a lot of things. Shiraishi always think that Kousaku speaks with his eyes far more than his words, especially to her. Now those dark, beautiful round eyes are staring intently. Maybe they are giving her a confession of some sort and at the same time asking for her affection.

He never asks people for anything. When he does, it means he desperately wants it.

Shiraishi decides he deserves it. So she gives him that kiss. Her head spins because the second kiss is getting more frantic. She feels his hands roaming outside and finally inside her shirts, his warm hands slides up her bare back sending mild electricity through out her body.

She knows where this is leading them to. She is going to let it be because everything just seems right and it feels so insanely good. His smooth, short strands of hair when her fingers curl around them, his arms that slowly form their position - him hovering over her trembling body. Everything is so natural and at the same time new to her.

In that spur of moment, he locks his eyes on hers. His quiet, almost inaudible low voice whispers.

"I love you."

All kinds of emotions crash Shiraishi like a tsunami. Her arms loop over the back of his neck, bringing her lips up to meet his. She mumbles a reply into the kiss. It's not even a real word but she knows he would understand.

Aizawa breaks the kiss, exploring the smooth skin of her cheek, making a brief contact all the way down her neck. Upon finding a thumping pulse, he presses his mouth on it like how he does to a patient with his two fingers.

It's normal to wear a scarf in this kind of weather. A reason to allow himself to suck on it. She breathes in, her hands busy tugging his hair and everything. It feels like a burnt that instead of painful, is very pleasant.

Then she realises something important.

"Kousaku?"

Shiraishi feels him pulling his kiss out, his eyes turn to her. The mark still burns like her neck was on fire.

"You have a shift in the next three hours, don't you?"

She utters under the breath, looking all flustered and tremendously sexy to him. The words she says has him stunned.

Aizawa never hates his own occupation this much before in his life.


End file.
